


The Long Road

by softly_softly



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, F/M, Female Bilbo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-03
Updated: 2014-02-20
Packaged: 2018-01-11 01:43:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1167119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softly_softly/pseuds/softly_softly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She thought of the quest that had been set out, and wondered if the invitation had been rescinded now the misconception of her as a burglar had been cleared up. Not that it mattered, she was set in her old Baggins ways and an adventure – even if she survived – would be something that would change her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. unexpected and rather unwelcome

Bilbo Baggins spent her days in a nice routine. She had her six meals a day, cared for her garden, went on walking holidays around the Shire every now and then and did odd jobs that inevitably appeared around Bag End. In the years since her parents passed on Bilbo had managed to settle in to the family home alone, not that Bag End stood empty often. Indeed, Bilbo would sometimes think to herself she’d prefer that it did with relatives stopping by for tea and her little cousins and second cousins visiting to give their parents an hour of peace. Nevertheless Bilbo was fond of visitors, usually having a cake or two ready for any that come upon her unexpectedly. It was on what seemed a pleasant, uneventful morning that she received an unexpected visit from someone she had quite forgotten.

 

It was just after breakfast and she was sitting in her chair next to the door enjoying the sun. She had the morning post beside her, ready to be read, when an old man came up to see her. She felt a flicker of recognition as he walked up the path to her door but dismissed it quickly.

 

“Good morning!” said Bilbo merrily.

 

“What do you mean?” The man replied. “Do you wish me a good morning or mean that it is a good morning whether I want it or not; or that you feel good this morning; or that this is a morning to be good on?”

 

After a pause to figure out what had exactly just been said, Bilbo replied hesitantly. “All of them at once?”

 

There was a long moment of the pair looking at each other. The man – wearing a long grey cloak and a wide-brimmed hat that Bilbo was sure she’d seen that before – seemed to be weighing her up and she had the distinct impression that he was finding her somewhat wanting.

 

“I have come here today seeking someone to take part in an adventure that I am arranging.”

 

“I doubt you’ll have any luck around these parts. We’re a nice quiet set here without any use for such things.  Make you late for dinner.” Bilbo was tempted to start ignoring the man in hopes that he would simply leave.

 

She hurriedly grabbed the letters sitting next to her and began to browse them intently. After a minute or two she risked glancing up to see if he was departing. The man continued to stand there – not making to leave or even stop watching her – so Bilbo took matters in to her own hands.

 

“Good morning!” She wished him and then hastily began to walk up in to the house.

 

“What a lot of things you use good morning for!” The man said sternly. “To think I should have lived long enough to be good-morninged by Belladonna Took’s daughter, as if I was selling buttons at the door!”

 

Bilbo paused and turned to face him.

 

“I’m very sorry, sir. I’m afraid I don’t know you’re name?” she replied a little unbalanced by his knowing her late mother.

 

“I daresay you still know my name even if you don’t know that I belong to it. I am Gandalf, and Gandalf means me!”

 

“Gandalf?” She asked, her displeasure suddenly melting away. “Not Gandalf who would tell such wonderful stories at parties? About dragons and goblins and giants and the rescue of princesses and the unexpected luck of widow’s sons? Not the man who made such wonderful fireworks we have every Midsummer’s Eve?”

 

Gandalf – and now he had said his name she couldn’t believe she’d ever thought him anyone else! – seemed slightly placated by her remembrance but overall his countenance remained unhappy. Bilbo didn’t even notice, too busy swept away in memories of fireworks that floated all evening in the sky looking like lilies and snap-dragons.

 

“Life used to be quite inter- I mean, you used to upset things badly in these parts once upon a time.”

 

“Hmm, I have half a mind to send on this adventure of mine. Very amusing for me, very good for you.”

 

Bilbo jumped up in horror after hearing Gandalf bring up adventuring yet again. She quickly gathered up her letters and hurried towards her front door.

 

“Sorry but I don’t want any adventures, not today. Good morning! But do come round for tea if you’d like! Why not tomorrow?” She added the last part only after feeling a twinge of guilt from her lack of hospitality.

 

She pulled the door shut behind her and sighed with relief, shaken up by the mention of adventures.  After a moment Bilbo ventured to peer out the window and saw that Gandalf was still outside, apparently laughing to himself. A little offended at being his apparent source of mirth, she turned away and walked over to the kitchen planning to start second breakfast a little early to calm her nerves.

 

* * *

 

 

Bilbo had completely forgotten – and had not even really noticed at the time – her offer of tea tomorrow to the wizard. She instead had her cousin Falco and little Poppy visit for afternoon tea and expected to settle down to a quiet dinner and supper by herself. It was the doorbell ringing that reminded her.

 

Gandalf was coming round for tea! Not that it was necessarily a cause for despair because Bilbo was fond of the old wizard. He was an old friend of her family’s and even if there was no room for fireworks, she could happily listen to his stories all night. As long as the subject of adventure was not broached the night could be quite pleasant.

 

Trying to recall exactly how many cakes and pies she had set aside for emergencies in the pantries, Bilbo answered the door.

 

“Dwalin, at your service.”

 

Gandalf was not at the door. Instead there was a dwarf standing there, bold as anything, as if _he_ had been invited to tea.

 

“Bilbo Baggins at yours,” Bilbo replied automatically, not sure exactly how respond.

 

Dwalin seemed to have no confusion and instead pushed past Bilbo saying something about being promised a meal and shoving a cloak in to her arms. Dazed Bilbo hung it up and shut the door, turning to see that the dwarf had started on her dinner.

 

Another knock at the door came while she stood awkwardly in her hallway and she felt a sudden surge of relief. That would be Gandalf and she could ask him why exactly a dwarf she had never even been introduced to had settled down to eat her tea while alternatingly glaring at her.

 

“Balin, at your service.”

 

Another dwarf, but this one was a fair bit older than the first and seemed more pleasantly disposed to Bilbo. He smiled and bowed with what seemed to be some genuine feeling and Bilbo smiled in return.

 

“Good evening.”

 

“Yes, it is,” he replied before spotting Dwalin going through Bilbo’s biscuit tin. “Evening Brother!”

 

Balin returned the greeting and the two of them began chatting away in-between going through her kitchen much to Bilbo’s dismay. Would she have more dwarven brothers on her doorstop? Family gatherings always ended up much rowdier than those with friends, in a more amiable or more belligerent way.

 

After fetching beer from the cellar at Balin’s request – the dwarf had declined her offer of a cup of tea – the doorbell rang again. She found the sound was rather beginning to grate on her nerves.

 

“Fili!”

 

“And Kili!”

 

“At your service!”

 

Bilbo grip on her manners began to fail completely and all she could do was cry, “not more?”

 

The older one – Fili? – beamed at her words.

 

“So the others have already arrived?”

 

The pair immediately started off to her kitchen where Dwalin and Balin appeared to be amusing themselves immensely and pouring each other a new pint of beer. Bilbo couldn’t help but sigh at the influx of dwarves in to her home, the seemed an odd group from the distinctly more grey Balin to Kili who would be scraping past 33. Or was it different for dwarves? Bilbo vaguely remembered speaking to one on a trip through the Shire who claimed to be 137 but she hadn’t really believed him at the time. She tried to recall their conversation in hopes that it would give her a hint as to how she should handle this situation and while she pondered the doorbell rang again.

 

This time there were five dwarves bowing and saying they were at her service before immediately advancing to where the other dwarves had begun to work on her second pantry. The first four of her visitors had also apparently finished the cask of ale she’d brought up and had raided her cellar for more. Before she could storm over and attempt to rescue one thing, a single slice of seed-cake for herself, there was a great knocking on her door.

 

Bilbo made the spontaneous decision that she would not be answering the door anymore –especially to anyone who didn’t even bother with her doorbell – abandoning the lessons on hospitality that had been drilled in to her since she was young. The knocking continued and then the unexpected guests began to heartily thump on her door, provoking a sudden surge of guilt in her. It was enough to make her open the door, but still cross from her treatment she just pulled it open with an abrupt jerk. Four dwarves sprawled in to her entrance way, falling upon of one and other, and behind them was Gandalf leaning on his staff and laughing quite heartily.

 

* * *

 

 

Once Gandalf had finished laughing, he began to introduce the last four to Bilbo who had lost her earlier anger and was rather distraught over accidentally dumping her guests on her doorway.  The first three seemed unperturbed and pleasantly offered her their service, etc., before following Gandalf to the others. The last, however, had ended up at the bottom of the pile and just glowered unpleasantly at her. Only after Bilbo’s repeated apologies did he relent enough to tell her not to mention it but disdained from offering her his service.

 

As she walked in to the hall she noticed that her table had been dragged there and now thirteen dwarves and a wizard sat around cheerily tucking in to dinner. She fully intended to have words with Gandalf over all the dwarves that had made themselves at home in her house without warning but as soon as she walked up to him, he cheerily announced that the company was all here and bade her to fetch some wine. So Bilbo found herself running back and forth through the house fetching raspberry jam and pork-pies and coffee as the dwarves alternatingly called out and wondered if this was the adventure that Gandalf had offered her.

 

It was after half an hour or so – but it felt like she had been running around for five – that the table was emptied and the dwarves began to lean back on their chairs and talk. The one that had been so displeased with her earlier was called Thorin Oakenshield appeared to be the leader of her visitor by way that the other dwarves deferred to him. It was also him that announced it was time to clear the table.

 

Bilbo was initially relieved that her guests would help with this chore but to her horror the dwarves began to grab the plates one by one began to pile them upon the table. Once they had accomplished this they threw them back and forth between them until they reached the kitchen and were dumped in to the sink while singing about blunting her knives and cracking her plates. Desperately Bilbo gave chase to her crockery, trying to catch plates on the way past, insisting that it was quite alright and she could manage, thank you. She noticed out of the corner of her eye that Thorin remained seating, speaking to Gandalf while the other dwarves flung her dishes around and wasn’t sure if this made her more or less irritated with him.

 

To her immense and exhausting relief nothing was broken by the time the dwarves finished and instead everything was cleaned and stacked neatly on her table. With half a mind she was tempted to simply flee down to the basement and never leave it, waiting out the dwarves and that troublemaker Gandalf, but now finally Thorin Oakenshield stood. He walked over to her and circled around, seemingly appraising her.

 

“So this is the hobbit?”

 

Bilbo, still out of breath, from running circles after her plates and cutlery just raised an eyebrow at Gandalf. She assumed it was him the question was addressed to, not pleased that people were talking about her instead of to her.

 

“I doubt you would much knowledge of fighting, with the sword or otherwise so undoubtedly we will have to make up your inexperience there. Do you have much skill in burglary?”

 

Bilbo was too offended by his comment to do anything more than incredulously repeat the word burglary.

 

“We must begin our meeting; the plans, the ways and means,” interrupted Gandalf.

 

At Gandalf’s words a sense of gravity descended over the dwarves and they returned to the table, lacking the bright energy they had earlier. Bilbo hesitantly followed and stood in a doorway rather than taking the fifteenth seat she had noticed that the dwarves set out. Her guests began conversing in a serious tone about things she wasn’t quite sure of; she heard “Ironhills,” “portents” and “quest”. Words that piqued an interest in her she desperately tried to suppress. Gandalf brought out a map that seemed to excite them a little, speaking of a terrible beast named Smaug and once again Bilbo considered the viability of hiding out in the cellar. Gandalf was not happy with her, she could tell as he nodded to the empty chair but she shied back from it preferring to remain in the doorway. In this spot she could easily retire to a different part of the house if things got too exciting.

 

It was when one of the dwarves started demanding Gandalf account for dragon killing that things became unruly. As they began to argue she found herself stepping forward attempting the quiet matters but the argument had set in with the youngest apparently defending Gandalf’s dragon killing record and another accusing him of fabricating it. Then suddenly, Thorin stood and yelled.

 

“If we have read these signs, do you not think others will have read them too? Rumours have begun to spread. The dragon Smaug has not been seen for 60 years. Eyes look east to the Mountain, assessing, wondering, weighing the risk. Perhaps the vast wealth of our people now lies unprotected. Do we sit back while others claim what is rightfully ours? Or do we seize this chance to take back Erebor?”

 

It was a good speech and Bilbo felt it stir something in the Tookish side of her. A quest to regain one’s homeland and all its treasures was something that was once in a lifetime. The kind of adventure that nobody – not even amongst the Tooks – had accomplished. The dwarves continued to talk but she was too in her own thoughts to pay them attention until one gestured towards her.

 

“That’s why we need a burglar.”

 

“I beg your pardon?” Bilbo replied politely as she could, not entirely sure why this kept coming up when people spoke to her.

 

“That is why we need you, burglar,” Thorin calmed repeated what Ori had said.

 

“I’m not a burglar!” She said with dismay. “Why I’m usually on the other side with Lobelia trying to make off with my silverware.”

 

“Not a burglar.” Thorin repeated with less calm, turning to shoot an angry glare at Gandalf.

 

“If you’re not a burglar, lass, perhaps you’d best be out of it,” said Balin and Bilbo felt he meant this with kindness.

 

Less kindly Dwalin announced to the room that the wild was no place for her if she didn’t know how to look after herself. Gandalf seemed more offended by this than Bilbo, who rather agreed with the statement.

 

The wizard drew himself up and said with a more angry tone Bilbo had ever heard him use, “If I say Bilbo Baggins is a burglar, then a burglar she is. You asked for a fourteenth member for your expedition and Bilbo Baggins is my choice.”

 

Even Bilbo was tempted to take a step back at his words and the force with which he said them, particularly as he gave her a stern look as well. Nevertheless, it seemed to be a necessary push for Thorin who then turned to Balin and asked for something. It was a contract, and Balin pressed it in to her hands. She cautiously started to read before skipping along as words like injuries and lacerations caught her eyes.

 

“Incineration?” She squeaked as she read it.

 

“That’d be the dragon. Hotter than a furnace, would melt the skin right off your bones,” helpfully said one she was reasonable sure was named Bofur.

 

A vision of a fully grown dragon descending upon her, boiling her blood and burning her bones came to Bilbo.

 

“Ah,” she said and fainted.

 

* * *

 

 

Bilbo later awoke in her own bed, still in her own clothes much to her relief. She could still hear the dwarves shuffling round in the kitchen, or perhaps her sitting room, she wasn’t sure. She thought of the quest that had been set out, and wondered if the invitation had been rescinded now the misconception of her as a burglar had been cleared up.

 

Not that it mattered, she was set in her old Baggins ways and an adventure – even if she survived – would be something that would change her. She was considered respectable enough in the Shire even if a little odd for having an interest in the world outside the Shire and conversing with any travellers that made their way through. It was unlikely she’d ever be considered acceptable company again in the Shire in general, let alone Hobbiton if she did this. No, it was better for her to decline and remain in her home.

 

Faintly through the door she heard she heard instruments and the dwarves starting to sing. It was a pleasant, if haunting, song and she drifted off to sleep, dreaming of great mountains and deep caverns and lofty pines.


	2. the lone-lands

The next morning Bilbo woke to a silent house. It appeared likely the dwarves had already left Bag End since she was sure she’d hear them if they remained, but that was for the best. That was what she had hoped for, that they would leave her in peace to continue her routine uninterrupted by adventures.

 

She checked in the kitchen first sure that they would have made themselves breakfast before they left. All her eggs were completely gone along a couple of loaves of bread, so surely they had eaten but all her dishes and pans had been washed and returned to their places. She found it to be an unsettlingly kind gesture from people she had made her my mind up to dislike.

 

The contact she had been presented last night they had not taken with them and it lay open on her table. Bilbo took a seat in front of it and carefully read it over again.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Her hat and handkerchief – as well as any money – were left behind forgotten, as Bilbo ran down Bagshot Row. With only a quick collection of items shoved in to a backpack and her hair hurriedly tied up she cut through Hamfast Gamgee’s garden the contract streaming out behind her, wishing she had a moment to stop and ask if he and Holman could keep an eye on Bag End.

 

It wasn’t until she ran through the Bolger’s yard that she drew any attention. Specifically from her aunt who was out that morning attempting some gardening and was rather surprised to see her niece running through it.

 

“Bilbo Baggins!” Belba exclaimed with some irritation. “Wherever are you off to in a hurry that you need to cut through folk’s gardens?”

 

“I’m going on an adventure!” Bilbo called back unsure if she would be heard but unwilling to stop, she had thirteen dwarves and a wizard to catch up to.

 

She ran and ran until her legs began to ache and she predicted that she must be almost in East Farthing by now. Eventually she spotted a troop of ponies up ahead of her – in addition to one horse that a grey cloaked figure sat on – and she hollered out to them. One by one the dwarves slowed down to a stop as she yelled out and ran straight past them to Balin, handing him back the contract.

 

“I believe it’s all in order,” Bilbo said beaming excitedly.

 

“Quite,” said Balin hesitantly. “But are you sure, lass?”

 

“I am. I was shocked to see you in on my doorstop and I’m still not sure why Gandalf insists I’m necessary but tell me what you want done and I will try. Even if I have to walk to the East of the East and fight were-worms in the Last Desert,” she replied a little breathlessly.

 

Balin – as well as the other dwarves – turned to look at Thorin who nodded after a moment’s thought. Balin turned back to Bilbo and smiled broadly at her.

 

“Welcome, Miss Baggins, to the company of Thorin Oakenshield.”

 

Bilbo almost laughed at the thrill of it! To be going on an adventure, like she’d dreamed of back when she was young and Gandalf visited almost annually. The contract being signed and in Balin’s hand was a relief; there was no backing out now her decision was made.

 

The dwarves insisted on giving her a pony, rather against her will. Hobbits were marvellous walkers, less marvellous riders but her little chestnut mare seemed quite sturdy and unlikely to bolt or rear or anything that she’d heard ponies and horses did. She rode next to Gandalf since he was the one she knew best – or at all really – and despite an outward show of anger about the betting, she was glad that he at least bet on her. Oin, to her surprise, had also and she smiled at him, getting a nod and a laugh in return.

 

It wasn’t until they’d been riding a while that Bilbo calmed down enough to consider what a foolhardy – and sudden – thing she’d done. She couldn’t remember if she’d brought an overcoat and cloak or not but desperately hoped she had, along with a bar of soap or two. She had definitely forgotten to bring any food but luckily that was covered by the contract. Less fortunately she discovered that dwarves had different ideas about meals than hobbits. Apparently dwarves insisted on only having three or so a day – which seemed ridiculously few – but after a sharp look from Thorin she sighed and hoped for them to pass through an orchard or something similar.

 

They rode the rest of the day only stopping at streams to allow the ponies some rest and water. At the first break she began rummaging through her pack, checking what was there and what was still sitting back at Bag End. Gandalf and the dwarves all sat facing each other looking at that map muttering about this and that and ignoring her completely.  After some thorough searching through, Bilbo found to her relief a bar of soap, a change of clothes and a brush among other things. However, she had forgotten her overcoat and any sort of hat to keep the weather off, much to her dismay.

 

“Gandalf?”

 

“Yes, Bilbo?” Gandalf turned from the group to face her.

 

“We wouldn’t be stopping in Buckland would we? I didn’t bring a thick coat or a travelling cloak.”

 

She noticed a handful of the dwarves had also turned to watch the conversation.

 

“My dear Bilbo, we are quite past Buckland now. And I doubt we still be going near any other towns.”

 

“We couldn’t have a slight diversion?” She pleaded.

 

Everyone had turned to watch them now, apart from Thorin and Dwalin who seemed determined to continue their conversation.

 

“If what I suspect is right, we may need to get to Erebor as quickly as possible.” Gandalf seemed regretful to tell her this at least. “We may be able to find you something somewhere.”

 

Before she could reply – whether to protest or accept – a bundle of cloth was thrown at her. It was an old moss green cloak that may once have been quite fine but now was old and had been repaired by someone who was no great seamster.

 

“It was my spare, take care not to damage it,” said Dwalin to her great surprise.

 

The temptation to retort that any damage to it could hardly be noticed was strong but instead she nodded and just thanked him instead. Dwalin accepted this without comment and turned back to Thorin who was instead glaring at Bilbo. This seemed more unfair than his usual looks of disdain as she hadn’t even asked Dwalin for his cloak; he had given to her freely. Ignoring Thorin she examined the cloak some more, noting that it would be almost comically large on her. Still, she was exceedingly unlikely to meet anyone from the Shire and most of the dwarves seemed to have a poor opinion of her already. It was a good colour, as hobbits were quite fond of greens and she decided she rather liked it regardless of its size.

 

It wasn’t quite cool enough to wear it yet so she rolled it up and placed it in her pack carefully. The others were already preparing to leave again and sighing Bilbo climbed atop her pony. She gave her a little scratch behind the ears, not sure what one does to praise a horse but it didn’t seem to bother her – nor did she seem to enjoy it admittedly – but Bilbo was content to think she’d brought the two of them a little closer.

 

 

* * *

 

 

She talked mostly to Gandalf the first couple of days, initially going over what exactly a burglar was needed for in this quest. Although she didn’t much like his explanation, for outside of accidentally locking herself out of Bag End once she had no idea of how to break in to a dwarven stronghold. Especially if it required finding a secret door that nobody seemed to know much about. Gandalf also revealed another fact that she had been hitherto unaware of.

 

“A king?” Bilbo said incredulously.

 

“In exile.” Gandalf continued and nodded his head towards Fili and Kili. “And his nephews there are princes. In-exile as well I suppose.”

 

She looked up to the head of the party where Thorin rode with his nephews. “I suppose he does have the kingly bearing.”

 

“You don’t sound very convinced,” said Gandalf not expressing any approval or disapproval in his tone.

 

Bilbo shrugged in reply. A king in exile was always a grand, gallant figure and although she supposed going to reclaim Erebor was a gallant quest, Thorin himself looked constantly like he was on his last nerve.

 

After a couple of days she rode with Oin instead, remembering that he was one of the few that had bet on her coming with them. The pair discovered they had a shared interest in plants but Oin was solely interest in herbs with medicinal purposes and Bilbo loved flowers and whatever herbs could be used to flavour a dish. Nevertheless they managed to speak happily on the subject for some time.

 

The next day she rode next to Bofur, Bifur and Bombur; the three brothers liking to ride with each other. Bofur seemed the cheeriest of the dwarves and teased her with good humour over her fainting. She chatted with Bombur – who was the cook of the party – about potential recipes for dinner, while Bifur only gestured in a language she didn’t know.

 

Every night Bilbo found herself looking forward to sleep more than she ever had before. Even more than after her walking holidays around the Shire. That night the company had made camp on a cliffside which seemed rather strange – what if one was to roll over a few times in their sleep – but being an inexperienced adventurer Bilbo kept quiet on the matter. She gave her pony, Myrtle, one of a handful of apples she’d grabbed from one of the few orchards they’d passed by. She’d initially thought of it as burgling practise but felt enough guilt over it later she decided that if this quest came off and she returned safely, she’d give the farmer a couple of silver pennies as reimbursement.

 

After first discreetly doing some more unpicking and sewing on Dwalin’s cloak – she’d luckily remember her little sewing kit – she decided it was time to lay out her bedroll and try and sleep as best she could with Gloin’s snoring.  She’d decided after some thought on the first night that she’d elect to set up her bed roll somewhat away from the dwarves in a stab of an attempt at proprietary, and closer to Gandalf who as an old family friend may well count as some sort of chaperone. Not that it would matter particularly once she returned as just leaving the Shire would result in her being considered even odder than previously and a little unwelcome. If any of the rest of the company noticed her efforts – which they may well not have – they made no comment.

 

She started at what sounded like a scream coming from alarmingly nearby.

 

“Troubled sleep, Mistress Baggins?” asked Kili seriously.

 

“I just thought- I heard-” Bilbo stumbled over her words before stopping entirely as another scream rang out.

 

“That’d be orcs,” said Fili nonchalantly, not even seeming to pay much attention to the conversation. “Dozens out there no doubt.”

 

Bilbo gasped and covered her mouth. “Orcs?”

 

“Oh yes, vicious throat cutters that attack while you sleep. They don’t leave a soul alive,” said Kili nodding to himself.

 

Bilbo felt a little dizzy and muttered about needing to sit down. Fili and Kili watched her for a moment before losing composure and beginning to laugh. Feeling quite cross at her own gullibility, she then jumped along with the brothers as an angry voice growled out from beside them.

 

“You think it’s funny? A night raid from orcs?”

 

Thorin stood and glared angrily at them, ignoring Kili’s attempts at an apology.

 

“You know nothing of the world.”

 

The comment appeared to be addressed to her as well as his nephews and before anything more could be said Thorin stalked off to the edge of the cliff. They watched him stand there staring out at the valley below him and beyond. The princes seemed upset from their uncle’s words and Bilbo was trying to think of something comforting to say when Balin approached.

 

“Don’t take it to heart, laddie,” Balin said gently. “Thorin has more cause to hate orcs than most.”

 

Balin began to speak of King Thor’s and then Thorin’s clash against Azog during the battle of Azanulbizar. Bilbo stood listening spellbound as Balin spoke and she could almost see the desperate battle. She felt a little guilt for judging him so quickly for although she had lost both her parents earlier than usual it had been peaceful enough. To watch your grandfather die violently in front of you, perhaps he had his reasons to be so taciturn. Bilbo only noticed by the end that one by one the other members of the company had stood and all turned to watch Thorin staring out over the valley.

 

“And I thought to myself then, there is one who I could follow. There is one I could call King.”

 

Bilbo didn’t stand with the rest but as she observed the rest of the company watching Thorin, she felt she could see what Balin sees. He has the love and loyalty of his men that any good king should have at least, she thought to herself.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Bilbo’s warm feelings quickly diminished again as the party got well in to the Lone-lands and in its place felt spooked by the vast hills dotted with old, abandoned castles. She felt more keenly the distance they had travelled from the Shire than before. She still rode most often with Gandalf who seemed most amenable with her company but now habitually rode with the others too. Balin and Oin were quite friendly towards her and Bofur, Bifur and Bombur were happy to chat or gesture in Bifur’s case. She wasn’t sure what he meant but Bofur was always happy to translate, whether that translation was accurate or not she wasn’t sure. Kili and Fili too would come and ride with her, or sit with her when they rested. She wasn’t sure if their uncle approved – and in fact she was sure she saw him glaring a handful of times – but they were fun and easy going. The others intentionally or not kept their distance from her. Dwalin especially she tried to talk to after thanking him again for the cloak but he just dismissed her and proved to be uncommunicative.

 

One particular day it rained as though it would never stop and Bilbo found herself regretted the quest heartily and sorely tempted to just sneak off home to the Shire. She cowered under her borrowed cloak and resolved to never entertain the idea of adventure ever again after returning home. She rides with Gandalf without any conversation and indeed, there is no conversation to be had amongst the whole group, every soul too depressed and sodden to converse. The exception was the occasional dwarf chastising Gandalf for letting the deluge continue which only served to rile him up.

 

Eventually the rain broke in the afternoon and they reached an old farmhouse. Bilbo was so relieved to have a break from riding – although she had grown quite fond of Myrtle she was still not used to riding – she barely paid in any notice to Thorin and Gandalf arguing. They always seemed to be disagreeing in hushed tones about something. Whatever it was they seemed determined to not involve the rest of the company and Bilbo was happy not to be involved but this time rather unexpectedly Gandalf stormed off.

 

Bilbo had noticed he was increasingly irritated with the party over the day but now the rain had eased off things should have calmed down. Nevertheless after a hushed conversation with Thorin, Gandalf was marching away from the company. She followed him a little down the hill and called out after him.

 

“Gandalf, where are you going?”

 

“To seek the company of the only one around here who’s got any sense!”

 

Turning briefly he saw her confused expression.

 

“Myself!” He added and continued down the hill muttering angrily.

 

She was tempted to follow him as he was the one she knew best of the company but he was already out of sight. Bilbo was no wizard or even a warrior and she knew she couldn’t wander through the woods alone looking for him and she had no choice but to remain with the group. Exasperated she turned around and walked back up to the group.

 


	3. roast, raw or boiled

The dwarves didn’t seem particularly dismayed at all by Gandalf walking out and set up to spend the night there, making a fire and getting out the pots and pans. Perhaps as they all knew each other well enough it was of no matter but Gandalf was the one Bilbo knew and the one who had set her on this journey and she was not happy to be without him.

 

As they ate their tea it grew dark and Gandalf still did not return. Bilbo couldn’t help but speak her worry to Balin who simply shrugged in reply. It was the way of wizards Bofur claimed interposing and sent her off with soup for Fili and Kili. The brothers were as distracted as she felt and had no interest in the soup, instead fussing over the ponies.

 

“There’s two gone,” said Fili in dismay.

 

“Well, your uncle would be the best to tell about that I imagine,” Bilbo replied and tried to shove the soup in their hands.

 

“No, no, not him!” Kili said mildly panicked. “It’s just… you’re our burglar, right? You’ll be able to sort out if they’re safe or not, and if not just come back quick!”

 

Putting down the bowls of soup carefully, Bilbo agreed feeling her own concern for the ponies. The three of them quickly found a makeshift path to follow of upturned trees and smashed foliage. She wanted to turn back immediately but Fili entreated her talking about poor Daisy and Bungo and she felt compelled to continue. It wasn’t long before they saw the light of the campfire, and had to hide as a great horrible person strode past. It was a troll; Bilbo was certain even though she’d never seen one before in her life and this horrible troll had another two ponies carried under its arms.

 

“Myrtle,” she whispered quietly recognizing the chestnut mare and turned to Fili. “We have to help them.”

 

“Well…” he said and nodding towards the fire.

 

“Well what?”

 

“Well, you are the burglar here. Go on, just sneak through and grab the ponies. If you need help just hoot twice like a barn-owl and once like a screech-owl.”

 

“Is there a difference?” Bilbo asked hesitantly, but the brothers were ushering her on so she crept towards the troll’s fire.

 

She felt she was doing rather well at this burglar business as she crept up quietly. Much better than when she’d been moving over with Fili and Kili who seemed determined to crash and stomp even when apparently sneaking. As Bilbo reached the ponies’ pen she went straight for to a knot in the fence next to where Myrtle is standing. Initially feeling guilty for playing favourites, she was glad to have done so after Myrtle whinnied softly at seeing her.

 

“I don’t have any apples, girl.” Bilbo whispered gently and struggled with the ropes. If she’d gotten a little notice about this burglar business, she might have had the opportunity to put some practise in.

 

Seeing as the ropes weren’t giving Bilbo decided instead to find a knife, noticing one sitting half out of one of the troll’s purses. Quietly, quietly she slipped over until she was behind one of them. William, the other two seemed to be addressing him which seemed an ordinary name for a troll but then again, she didn’t know much about trolls at all really. However as soon as she started to tug the knife from the purse she heard a cheery voice come from inside it.

 

“’Ere, ‘oo are you?”

 

William immediately turned around and grabbed Bilbo by the feet before she could attempt a hoot.

 

“What is it?” said one.

 

“What are yer?” said another obviously favouring the direct approach.

 

“I’m a bur- a hobbit!” Bilbo shrieked.

 

Desperately she tried to remember was it a screech owl or a masked owl that she was supposed to imitate but the swaying back and forth made it hard to concentrate. William peered curiously at his captive.

 

“What’s a burrahobbit?” he asked.

 

“Forget that, William. Ask it if there’s more!” cried another.

 

“Lots!” She yelled out nervously but then hurriedly tried to cover it up. “None! Not one!”

 

“What d’yer mean?” said another suspiciously and tried to grab her off William.

 

“Hey, this one’s mine, y’hear! Find a burrahobbit for yourself, Bert!”

 

“Are there lots or none?” said Bert, ignoring William.

 

Thankfully before she got caught in a tug-of-war between them Kili jumped out from the bushes. Bilbo felt almost as surprised as the trolls to see him, since she hasn’t even managed to hoot as a warning yet.

 

“Drop her!” shouted Kili brandishing a sword.

 

There was a pause during which Bilbo was sure she could see the words knocking around their fat heads. Eventually William was the one to make the connection between a dwarf showing up and Bilbo initial slip of tongue mentioning “lots!”

 

She was flung by her foot at Kili who mercifully caught her – or if truth be told bore the brunt of her fall – and the rest of the company burst from the trees. Kili paused only to check that she was relatively unharmed before jumping in to the fray. All she could do was hobble towards the tree line and skirt around the battle. She struggled over to the pen where the ponies were and grabbed an abandoned sword, sawing through the rope. Once the pen was open the ponies stampeded out and drew the attention of one of the troll nearby.

 

“Oi!” He shouted and grabbed for her as she scrambled away. Her foot was still aching from all the dangling she’d done from it and she stumbled and was easily caught by him.

 

“Stop unless you want your burrahobbit to lose her arms!”

 

Bilbo tried to struggle a little and looked to the dwarves who’d all regrouped. Kili made to try and help – which she felt a pang of gratitude for – but was held back by Thorin. Their leader seemed conflicted and silently she prayed that he wouldn’t call their bluffs and see her limbs torn off. She could almost have wept from the relief when he threw down his sword and the others followed, but it was hard to feel that relief a minute later when she found herself shoved in a sack along with the dwarves.

 

After some intense arguing over the exact way to cook the dwarves and whether she should be included along with them – William had argued to let her go – a roast had been decided on. A handful of dwarves had been put upon the spit while she and the others sat waiting their turn. Bilbo felt time growing every shorter and racked her brain for anything she could do, anything that could buy them more time.

 

“You’re doing it wrong!” she shouted at length.

 

Only William bothered to glance over, since he was the only one to have any interest in her and she struggled to stand.

 

“Trust me, I know a great deal about cooking… dwarves and you’re doing it all wrong!”

 

“Oh, aye. Do yer?” said Bert idly.

 

“They smell so badly you need some strong herbs to take the edge.”

 

The trolls’ attention seemed to be caught by this comment and unfortunately the dwarves’ had as well with various protestations about their smell and calls for her to sit down and be quiet. Bilbo shuffled out of range of their kicks and attempted to build on the interest she’d gathered.

 

“You’d need much much more seasoning!” she said her voice taking on an edge of desperation.

 

“Better not to roast them at all then,” said one of the trolls.

 

“Don’t start that rubbish again Tom!” shouted Bert.

 

“I didn’t say a word,” replied Tom.

 

Bilbo didn’t particularly care which one said it. “Quite right! Roasting dwarves is no good! They’re much better…”

 

“Raw?” suggested William.

 

“Yes! I mean, no! I mean-”

 

It was too late and Tom had grabbed up Bombur. The dwarves still didn’t seem to have figured out her attempt and she received various accusations of betrayal and a direct threat from Dwalin.

 

“They’ll turn your stomach if they’re raw,” she shouted not sure exactly what she was yelling at this point.

 

There was a pause of what passed for contemplation amongst the trolls.

 

“We should sit on them first to stop them struggling,” one of them said and Bilbo wasn’t sure which one it was.

 

“Which one to do first?” said Tom giving it some thought.

 

“The burrahobbit,” suggested the voice.

 

“No not her, Bert. The troublemaker first,” said William.

 

“I never said so,” replied Bert getting irritated. “Tom did!”

 

“That I never did!” shouted Tom. “Was you who said it!”

 

“Maybe boiling would be better?” A voice proposed.

 

“We can’t boil, we ain’t got no water! Of all things to suggest William!” yelled Tom exasperated.

 

“Don’t bring me in to it!” William replied.

 

“Enough arguing!” shouted Bert. “Dawn’ll be here soon and we’ve got to hurry.”

 

“Dawn take you all!” shouted a voice that sounded a little of a troll’s and a lot more of Gandalf’s. “And be stone to you!”

 

“Gandalf,” shrieked Bilbo and if she had been at liberty to run she may well have run over and hugged him, she was so glad to see him.

 

The moment he had appeared the dawn followed behind him and bathed the area in its light. To Bilbo’s amazement the trolls turned to stone as the light reached them; leaving them looming over the fire, their surprised expressions now etched eternally on their face. The dwarves all cheered to see Gandalf and what became of the trolls, however they still made sure to give her a dirty look or two.

 

After the first few moments of relief, exactly what the fourth voice had been saying came back to her. “You said they should squash me first!”

 

Gandalf ignored her and instead started to untie her sack.

 

“You should have heard what she said about us,” cried Dori, put out that Bilbo was getting freed first.

 

“She had the presence of mind to play for time,” Gandalf said as he helped her step out of the sack.

 

“And what did I get in return,” said Bilbo. “Nothing but threats for my efforts.”

 

Most had the decency to look repentant about it so after testing her foot – only sore and nothing more serious – she immediately went to the spit and started throwing earth upon the flame. Once the fire was out she grabbed a sword and began to saw through their bonds, letting them unceremonious fall to the ground afterwards. Gandalf untied those in sacks who sheepishly then helped the others, perhaps feeling their unhelpfulness earlier.

 

Gandalf and Thorin disappeared off to the side to talk and Bilbo stood with the others who all demanded Bilbo recount exactly what happened to her twice over before they were satisfied. Fili and Kili got a stern look for their part in it but it was generally agreed that it had been better to try and find the ponies even if they’d ultimately lost them again. Bilbo felt rather sad to have lost Myrtle after she’d warmed up to the little mare but there was nothing to be done about it other than hope she and the other found their way back to the Shire.

 

 

* * *

 

 

After that the dwarves all decided to investigate the cave of the trolls and Bilbo decided not to, and to instead have a nice sit down. As she waited for their business, she tried to put a bright spin on now having to walk rather than ride her pony but she couldn’t find much. The rest of the company had more luck in the cave, she could hear they crying out about gold and weapons, neither of which held a great amount of interest to her.

 

Gandalf was the first to leave the cave – she couldn’t imagine why anyone would stay down in the nasty smelly place – and walked straight over to her. He placed a sword in her hand which was admittedly likely to have been a knife for the original owner but to her it would probably be about the size of a short sword.

 

“Yes, it’s very fine,” Bilbo said not sure why he was handing it to her when she was the last person present to appreciate sword craftsmanship.

 

“It’s about your size, it should serve you well.”

 

“What?” She said almost dropping it in her surprise. “I don’t know how to use it.”

 

“And I hope you will never be forced to but it is better to have it than be without,” he said in an evenly measured tone. “It can at its least give you warning, it glows blue in the presence of orcs.”

 

“Well, I thank you then.”

 

The rest of the dwarves exited the cave and a handful – mainly Gloin – looked well pleased with themselves. A few had new weapons like herself and the other’s pockets appeared to be fully than before. Bilbo couldn’t recall if trolls were great treasure hoarders or not but regardless the dwarves could give them good competition for love of it.

 

“Something’s coming!” Thorin shouted suddenly, drawing his sword.

 

The others copied him drawing their own swords, even Gandalf. Bilbo decided that she’d leave hers sheathed until situations became desperate. The bushes rustled and she heard a great crashing in the distance along with cursing.

 

At the back of the group she found it hard to see exactly what burst out in front of them but after things calmed she could see a sleigh pulled by rabbits and an old man upon it. He was an old friend of Gandalf’s by greeting he gave him and Bilbo wondered if he was a wizard too. Gandalf introduced him as such – Radagast the Brown – and pair moved their conversation a little distance from the group, carefully out of earshot, much to Thorin’s dislike.

 

Nevertheless whatever business they had to speak of was wizard business and the dwarves lost interest and spoke amongst themselves. Kili and Fili came and sat by her as company, sparking her to recall something from earlier.

 

“Thank you,” she said to Kili.

 

He only looked confused in response.

 

“For trying to help me, at least. You didn’t even consider letting them rip my arms off.”

 

“Ah! Well, none of us would have let that happen,” said Kili confidently, Fili looked less convinced behind him and Bilbo couldn’t help but laugh.

 

Suddenly she heard a howl and jumped to her feet.

 

“Was that a wolf? Are there wolves here?” She voice shook a little from dread.

 

“Not wolves,” said Fili getting to his feet.

 

Before anything more could be said a creature appeared at the top of the rise next to the camp. It resembled a wolf but it was larger, easily twice the size. Its canine teeth were longer and its fur ragged and clumped. It leapt down in to the group and began attacking and snapping at whoever was nearest. Bilbo scrambled backwards away from it, not even bothering to grab her new sword. The dwarves kept their calm better and Thorin ran it through. However as soon as that on lay dead, another appeared over the rise. This time it was shot dead by Kili before it could get close.

 

“Warg scouts!” Thorin yelled. “An orc pack will be close behind them.”

 

Bilbo could only stare at the two warg bodies in front of her and feel sick. Gandalf yelled at them to run and she felt afraid, more afraid then when they’d been captured and bagged by the trolls. Radagast drew off the pack as the company watched and they began to run across the open plains. Bilbo was at the back initially and fell behind even more as she stumbled a little from her sore foot.

 

As they ran they ducked behind the rocks in an attempt to keep themselves out of sight from the wargs and orcs, and Bilbo was especially glad for this as it doubled as an opportunity to catch up. Their efforts seemed to be working as the packs continue to chase after Radagast. Then things quickly changed for the worse as a scout spots them.

 

The scout is easily shot by Kili but it is enough for the orcs to switch and instead chase the company. Gandalf leading them, they ran but were soon outnumbered the orcs and wargs. The enemies’ superior numbers work against the company and orcs and wargs begin to circle around them.

 

“Where’s Gandalf?” Bilbo managed to cry, panting from the exertion.

 

“He’s abandoned us!” Dwalin yelled.

 

Thorin didn’t seem to have lost his composure, ordering the group to stand together. The orcs and wargs completely surrounded them and started to close in quickly, the dwarves readied their weapons and Bilbo grappled with her sword. She was muddled from nerves and could hardly pull it free from its sheath.

 

“This way, you fools,” cried a voice, Gandalf stood by a rock.

 

As they ran over, Gandalf gestured to a large crack in it. Bofur doesn’t wait, throwing himself straight in and Nori follows him. Bilbo jumped down next praying that safety was within.


End file.
